


If I've Misremembered (Who I Used To Be)

by saveourtiredhearts



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Self-Harm, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is sad, and bucky barnes is mentioned, but he will!, but you gotta put on your shipping glasses for this one, guess what?, he doesnt get one, kind of, the avengers team is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saveourtiredhearts/pseuds/saveourtiredhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wakes up one morning knowing that the serum is gone. He tests it out, because he's always been afraid, but he's never been a coward, and he's stood up to worse bullies than this before.<br/>His only problem is, what will his team think?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I've Misremembered (Who I Used To Be)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written very quickly, and is definitely un-beta'd. If there are any mistakes, they're my fault, and I would love to know, so i can fix them!  
> As usual, Steve is sad, Sam is awesome, and Tony is Tony.

One day Steve wakes up and he knows.

It's like an ache in his body that he never realized had left has returned, yet not exactly, because Steve knows every ache the serum dispelled, has listed them and counted them and gone over them as Bucky listened with awe in his eyes. This is a familiar ache that he knows _had_ been banished from his bones. An ache that's now returned.

He tests it out, because he’s not afraid (no, he is afraid, but isn't that where bravery comes from?) and takes a razor to the skin above his stomach. He slices a tiny, tiny cut, something that should heal in seconds. He watches a drop of blood trickle from the split skin, his fingers gripping around the razor.

It doesn’t close up. It doesn’t close up.

It doesn't close up.

Steve resists the urge to take the razor to his throat, to slice deeper, wider, because he knows it will do him no good, knows that just because he can't be Captain America now doesn’t mean he’s useless.

But _goddamn_ does he feel useless.

This is a thousand times worse than standing up to a bully when he was five foot two, 110 pounds, fire-spitting, red hot enraged, Steve Rogers. Back then he only wanted to be strong. He had never been strong at all, not in physical way, not in the way that truly matter to the men at the recruitment center who turned him away time after time. He had nothing to lose then, everything to gain.

Steve hasn't even stepped out of his apartment and he knows he's lost everything.

 _The way you knew you were losin’ in that back alley, huh?_ whispers Bucky’s voice in the back of his mind. Steve shudders, turns away from the mirror.

 _I'm Steve Rogers again,_ Steve says to his inner Bucky miserably. _I'm nothing again._

Bucky snorts. _Pal, you've always been Steve Rogers. That don't mean you've ever been useless._

 

It's good that Sam’s the only one in the kitchen. Steve didn't know who to start with, but it looks like he doesn't even have to make a choice.

“Sam,” he says. Sam looks up from his bacon.

“Aw man, don't tell me you've been running already,” he complains, when he sees Steve in merely sweatpants, and nothing else. Steve wants to joke back, to turn away, to walk out and not _do this,_ but he’s never backed away from a bully before and he's certainly not going to start now.

“Sam,” he says again, and then his words failing, simply says “Watch.”

Sam raises an eyebrow when Steve pulls out a sharp knife, nearly leaps from his seat when Steve puts it right above his own hipbone. “Steve--” he starts urgently, but Steve’s already pressing down, making a swift shallow mark. Red wells to the surface.

“Look,” Steve says, and Sam swallows, stares.

It doesn't close up. It doesn't close up.

It doesn't close up.

The mark above his stomach hasn't healed either, but it's so small, that Steve doubts Sam will notice it. And he had to make a statement, show this, so Sam would really believe him.

 _He’d believe you, he’s your friend,_ says Imaginary Bucky, rolling his eyes. _And he's not stupid. Why do you gotta make everything so dramatic?_

“Aw shit,” says Sam. He looks up at Steve, and Steve refuses to look away. He's sure his face is pale, just like he’s sure his hands are trembling. “We have to tell the others, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve says, and very carefully puts the knife down. _I won't be useless. I'm not useless. I can't be useless again._ “I know.”

 

The Avengers are gathered in the communal living room, and Steve appreciates that, he really does. It feels like he’s still part of the family, this way, feels like he’s still an Avenger.

But how can he be, now?

Natasha’s draped over Clint, and Thor sits next to them. Tony and Bruce are both in separate chairs, and Steve’s standing in front of the widescreen TV, with Sam on his right.

“We’ve got a problem,” says Sam loudly, which cuts out the chatter in the room.

“Aliens?” guesses Tony, glancing up from his tablet.

“I hope not,” Clint mutters under his breath. Natasha elbows him.

Sam looks to Steve. He’s quietly waiting, supporting, and Steve tries to think about how easily Sam took the news.

But Sam doesn’t have to consider the sort of things Steve knows his team will have to consider--whether he’s fit to help in any capability, or whether he’s merely a liability. He can’t be dependent on someone else, now. Not when he’s been so independent (ha!) for so long.

They’re his team though, his friends, his support system, the people he can depend on when he can’t depend on anyone else.

Steve takes a deep breath.

“The serum’s gone,” he says quietly. Bruce sits up, eyes wide. “It’s failed.”

There’s a pause. Then, chaos.

Tony starts shouting, and Bruce shouts back. Thor intervenes with confusion, Clint tries to set him straight, then Natasha tries to set them both straight. The room grows louder and louder, and Sam looks to Steve desperately.

Steve’s fallen back into parade position, knows his team will listen to him. “Stop,” he orders, no louder than usual.

Everyone shuts up.

Steve takes another deep breath. “I can’t participate in the team anymore,” he says quietly. “My healing is gone. My super strength is gone. I can’t be your captain anymore.”

Multiple people start to speak, but Steve cuts them off, determined to be ruthless, efficient.

“That said, since I’m stepping down from my position, I have to promote someone. If you’re not okay with my decision, then we can discuss other choices, but for now, Tony, you’re the leader of the Avengers.”

That's it. That’s all Steve has to say, and he starts to turn away, ready to escape the oppressive stares, ready to--

“Fuck you, _Captain,”_ spits Tony, and Steve turns back around to stare at his enraged teammates. And they’re angry, they’re all so obviously angry, why are they angry it’s not his fault he’s--

“You’re not weak,” says Tony, _shouts_ Tony. “You’ve never been weak, Steve! You can’t just ditch us, you can’t just leave your team because we still need you.”

Steve blinks. “You don’t need me,” he protests. Because it’s true. “I’m only a liability, I’d--”

“You’re our captain, Steve,” interrupts Clint. “Hell, the reason half of us came to this Tower is because you said you’d come.”

“Hey!” interjects Tony, but Natasha’s nodding, and Thor is too.

“We don’t just need you because of your superpowers, we need you because you keep us together,” Clint continues. “‘Tasha and I are regular humans too, are you going to make us step down from the team?”

“No!” exclaims Steve, horrified. “You guys are the best at what you do, I would never--”

“And you’re the best at what you do,” says Natasha. She lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “We never followed you just because you were Captain America. We followed you because you were _our_ captain.”

Thor nods seriously. “And although you may have diminished in physical strength, it is doubtful that the same can be said about your mind, and your heart.”

“The Other Guy listened to you from the very start,” Bruce says quietly. “What the super soldier serum made you is not all that you are.”

Steve’s shocked. Doesn’t know what to say.

 _Told ya, punk,_ whispers Bucky.

“I--” he starts, and it comes out rough. “Thanks.”

“You’re still an Avenger, even if you’ve lost those abilities,” Sam says with a smile. “You’re still Steve Rogers. You always have been.”

Steve nods. The team surrounds him, silent, for a moment.

“We’ll train,” Natasha says softly. “You’ve kept the muscles, and your mass, and probably muscle memory. We’re not going to let you leave us that easily.”

“I’m glad,” Steve says, and he smiles at all of them. His team.

He’s not useless. Not to them. And for a moment, with his team around him, he doesn’t care what the media says, doesn’t care that he won’t be able to be out in the field for a while, doesn’t care that he may no longer be able to be Captain America.

He’s still their captain.

And with or without the serum, he’s always been Steve Rogers--just a kid from Brooklyn, trying to be a good man.

He likes to think he’s succeeded.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!]()
> 
> If I've misremembered  
> Who I used to be  
> Then blame it on my uselessness  
> And quaint stupidity.


End file.
